


CinderErica

by AkumaStrife



Series: Teen Wolf goes Disney [1]
Category: Cinderella (1950), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Disney crossover, F/F, In which I forcefully shove the Teen Wolf canon into disney movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkumaStrife/pseuds/AkumaStrife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, deep in the Dark Forest, bordering the Beacon Kingdom, a maiden named Erica lived, along with her Step-Alpha Derek and her two pack brothers, Boyd and Isaac. They were nice enough, but made fun of her often for losing control on the full moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CinderErica

_Once upon a time, deep in the Dark Forest, bordering the Beacon Kingdom, a maiden named Erica lived, along with her Step-Alpha Derek and her two pack brothers, Boyd and Isaac. They were nice enough, but made fun of her often for losing control on the full moon._

_But they’re not the focus right now. High up in Castle Argent, King Christopher paced his office…_

“Please calm down, Sire,” Duke Stilinski sighed. “You know Melissa said to watch your blood pressure.”

“I am calm!” Chris snapped, but did not cease his pacing. “She’s out gallivanting all over the wilderness again. I don’t mind Allison’s prolonged hunting trips, I’m actually quite proud she’s taken to it so well, but she’s well passed the normal age for marriage.”

Duke Stilinski sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk. “You shouldn’t rush it, these things happen in their own good time. The harder you press the issue, the more resistant she’s going to be about it.”

Chris threw himself into his chair, leaning back and plunking his feet on his desk, crossed at the ankles. “I know, but I’m not getting any younger. I want grandchildren. A secure line of succession. Ever since her mother died it seems like all she cares about is hunting. I can’t even get her to wear dresses anymore.”

The Duke’s eyes softened and he tried to smile reassuringly, resting a hand on the King’s boot. “The Queen’s death hit us all pretty hard. She’s just rebelling a little. It’ll pass. There are plenty of young men who’d trip over themselves to marry her, dresses or not.”

Chris sighed and rubbed a hand over his stubble. “I sure hope you’re right. But just to be sure…” He motioned to a blank stack of parchment and waited for the Duke to retrieve a quill and ink. “Allison should be coming back in the morning, so I’m throwing a ball tomorrow evening. Send invitations to all eligible young men in the Kingdom.”

The Duke hesitated, dripping a blot of ink onto the parchment. “Don’t you think that’s a little short notice, Sire?”

“There’s to be a full moon, so hopefully that’ll keep out most of the… rabble. My daughter likes a challenge, and I’ll not have her set her sights on some shapeshifting heathen.”

“Very wise of you,” the Duke muttered, as he set about writing the announcement. Some of the King’s ways were a bit old fashioned, but there was little he could do about it. At least the King was fair to his subjects, and honored any and all agreements he made by law of the code (with neighboring kingdoms, the magical, and otherwise).

* * *

“Erica! Wake up!” Isaac shouted as he pounded on her door. 

Erica groaned and rolled over. She pulled the covers over her head and tried to go back to sleep, hoping that maybe her pack brothers would get bored and leave her in peace. 

There were heavy foot falls on the stairs leading up to her tower room, and she shoved her head under the pillow; it was way too early for this. 

“Erica!” a little voice squeaked. She lifted the edge of her covers and two mice scrambled inside the cocoon. The smaller one with tiny dark spots put its paws on her nose, his whiskers tickling her face. “Alpha really angry. Grrrr red eyes and nasty teeth.” He barred his own small ones in mockery. “Get up, get up!”

Erica snorted and tickled his belly. “He’s always in a foul mood. I’m not scared of him.”

Suddenly her door flung open with a sound like splintering wood. She flinched and peeked out of her blankets, carefully cupping the two mice in her hands out of sight.

“Can I help you?”

“Pack Meeting,” Derek said, “right now.”

Erica yawned and shimmied farther back into her warm covers. “If the sun’s not up, it’s not important.”

“We got a letter from the palace. Five minutes,” he said and retreated down the stairs.

She immediately jumped from bed and placed the mice on her dresser. Her door swung by one hinge and she made a mental note to have Boyd fix it later—this was hardly the first time it’d happened. 

Pulling on her clothes—a tunic and soft leggings—she spared a moment to push open her shutters. In the dawn light the far off castle seemed to glow. She sighed and leaned her chin on a hand. While her kind was allowed within the castle’s walls during festivities, they were not usually welcome. Just once she’d like to see it. To be a part of it all. The people all dolled up and the music and dancing. Friendship and courting and the feasts. But then, they could hardly go into town without drawing negative attention, let alone the castle. 

Scott, the bigger of the two mice, patted her arm with his tiny paws. “Erica get happy ending too.”

“Yeah!” squeaked Stiles. “The happiest!”

"Just because Der-Der grouchy doesn’t mean Erica can’t get dream.”

"And when Erica do," Stiles said gravely, his eyes big and round, "Erica take Scott-Scott and Stiles with. Der-Der scary."

Erica laughed and set them both on the floor. “You two should get going. If you wait much longer the chickens will eat all the corn.”

Scott blew her a kiss as they scampered off into a crack in the wall.

“Now, to see what Derek wants,” she muttered. She took a detour through the kitchen to feed the family hound, Danny, before finding the rest of her pack in the parlor. 

Her brothers were currently pouring over the piece of royal mail, eyes bright with excitement. 

“Alright, what’s the big deal?” she asked, plopping down into the tastefully striped sofa (there was a scorch mark hidden under one of the decorative pillows, from when Isaac was trying to light a fire in the grate and almost burnt the manor down in the process). 

Derek knocked her feet off the coffee table before sitting in the arm chair. Jackson, the self-important orange tabby who hated everyone besides Derek, jumped up to sit in his lap. He kneaded sharp claws into Derek’s leg, purring loudly, and Derek didn’t seem to notice, only scratched behind his ears. “The Princess is returning today, and the King is throwing a ball in her honor.”

“All eligible bachelors are to attend,” Isaac cut in, his grin impossibly wide. “Just think about what it’d be like to marry a real princess.” He sighed dreamily and didn’t even notice when Boyd snagged the announcement from him. “I’ve seen her in paintings. She’s gorgeous, and twice as ruthless.”

“Seriously?” she asked, sitting up straight, hands clasped tightly. This could be her chance, her chance to be a part of the something with other people her age. “When are we leaving? I need to hem my dress and find matching—“

Derek cut her off with a sharp, “You’re not coming.” 

She gaped, looking between him and her step brothers. “What? Why not?”

“There’s a full moon tonight, and you still can’t reliably control your shift.” 

“That’s so not fair! You know how badly I’ve been wanting to go to the palace. Why do they get to go?” she asked, jabbing her thumb in Isaac and Boyd’s direction. 

“Because they’ve mastered the shift.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a secret we’re werewolves, and in case you’ve forgotten, the royal family hunts our kind.”

Derek smiled; a cruel expression that showed far too many teeth. “It’d serve him right, then, for his own precious daughter to wed the very beast he ran out of town.”

She scoffed and tossed her hair. “Please, like Isaac and Boyd are going to be allowed anywhere near the Princess. Doesn’t matter how much Isaac bats his eyelashes, the King’s going to find some way to kick you out if you don’t keep your head down.”

“True love always finds a way,” Isaac said wistfully. Boyd just rolled his eyes and patted his shoulder. 

“If you’re not going to let me go, then why the hell did you wake me up?” Erica asked. 

“I need you to fit the boys’ suits and help them get ready for the ball.”

Erica ground her suddenly sharper teeth together. “Are you fucking kidding me? Not only do I have to stay home, but you’re going to flaunt it in my face?”

Jackson hissed at her tone, his golden fur standing on end, and Erica leaned forward to growl right back. Derek shushed the cat with a hand on the back of his neck. Erica snorted as she crossed her arms and threw herself back into the couch. The cat seemed to glare, but merely stretched and jumped down. He scratched at the door and yowled loudly until Boyd opened it for him, and he darted down the hall (mostly likely to pick on Danny). 

“You’re the only one who knows how to sew,” Boyd pointed out. “C’mon, if one of us wins the Princess’ hand, you’ll get to be in the castle and hang around her all the time.”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms irately, but considered it anyways. “Fine, but you better woo the skirts off her. Do you know how expensive all this leather is? It’s not cheap looking this good.” She would help them, grudgingly, but she was going to the ball, whether Derek liked it or not. 

* * *

Erica held the pair of mice carefully in her cupped hands, up at eye level. “You like when I protect you two, right? When I sneak you treats and keep the cat away? Well it’s time to collect, boys. I need a favor.”

The mice nodded vigorously, practically trembling at the notion that they might be of use to the girl who’d freed them from the metal traps so many springs ago. 

“Anything,” Stiles squeaked. 

Scott hesitated mid nod, holding his tail close. “Gonna hurt?” 

“Not if you don’t get caught. Derek should be outside for a while, but you have to watch out for Jackson.” She set them down on the bed-side table and gathered up her sewing things. “I just need you to get these things,” she said, and placed a list on the wood next to them. They scrambled onto the paper and pointed out specific things, squeaking to each other quickly. 

“Think you can do it? I’d do it myself, but the boys would catch on eventually and you know how much they suck up to Derek.”

“Leave to us!” Stiles said, and rolled up the scrap of paper, wrapping his tail around it tightly. He and Scott jumped to her bed and slid down the hanging edge of the sheet, racing across the floor and into the wall.

"Gotta be careful of Jack-Jack the cat-cat," Stiles warned, and Scott nodded his head enthusiastically. "Mean ol' kitty got Matty last week.”

“Gotcha.”

They climbed over beams and skirted cobwebs, making their way to the second floor. Peaking out from behind a hanging curtain, they looked both ways down the hall. It was empty, but they could hear voices coming from Boyd’s room. 

“Quick-quick!” Stiles whispered and the two scampered into the hall and squeezed through the crack of Isaac’s door. His room was a state of disarray, jackets and pairs of wrinkled trousers littering the floor. 

“This?” Scott asked, lifting the corner of a pink sash. 

Stiles wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “No, no. Pink no good. Not Erica’s color.” He scampered around the messy floor, nosing under clothes and unearthing others. He grabbed a silky shirt and walked backwards, tugging it out from underneath a pile. 

“This!”

Scott helped him pull it free, and they marveled over the bright blue shirt, and how soft it felt in their paws. Surely it was big enough to turn into a bodice for a dress. 

“Very pretty,” Scott said with something like awe. “But getting upstairs…” 

Stiles made a thoughtful noise, unwilling to let go of Isaac’s shirt, as if it’d disappear if he did. Scott squeaked suddenly and scurried to the window, launching himself up the leg of the chair and climbing up to the sill. With great effort he undid the latch and pushed the window open, almost tipping out when it suddenly gave way. 

He whistled and a great raven swooped out of a tree to land on the sill next to him. The bird squawked and shook out his glossy feather. 

Stiles shrieked and dove for under the bed. “Predator!”

Scott laughed and laughed at Stiles, falling onto his back and holding his stomach as he giggled himself silly. The raven’s wings shook as he too croaked in amusement.

“Friend, Stiles. No worries,” Scott managed to say mid-fit, beating the ground as he tried to quell his laughter. Stiles would not appreciate being mocked. 

Stiles huffed and grumbled as he peeked out from under the bed, glaring at Scott and shooting the large raven distrustful looks. But Scott sat next to him without fear, and the bird merely straightened some feathers while he waited, so perhaps it was all right to come out. A friend of Scott’s would surely be a friend of his, as well. 

After a moment, Stiles finally moved towards the window, dragging the silky shirt behind him. 

“Stiles,” Scott started, finally having regained control of himself, and motioned to the raven. “Deaton. Good friend. Will take pretty silk to Erica’s.”

Stiles clutched the material tightly. “No!”

“Stiles,” the other mouse pleaded. He jumped up and down a few times as he pointed to the clock. “Not much time. Tick tock, tick tock.”

As much as Stiles hated it, Scott had a point and they only had so much time before Erica expected their finds. He looked between the fabric and the bird, before chancing a few hesitant steps closer. Deaton glided down to the floor and hopped across the carpet. 

With a flick of his talons he, more or less, folded the shirt into a more compact and manageable shape. 

“Careful, careful!” Stiles demanded, twisting his tail fretfully. “Only one, no mistakes.”

The raven snorted through his beak and grabbed the fabric around its middle in one foot. He took off, flapping through the window and soaring high up to where Erica’s shutters should still be open from that morning. 

Boyd’s door banged agains the wall next door, and the mice jumped in surprise. They could hear Erica and the boys getting closer. 

“Hurry, hurry!” Scott said, dragging Stiles behind him by the tail as he made a brake for the hole in the corner of the trim. They slipped through just as the door opened and the pack moved their operation in. 

The mice crawled out of the tunnel into the hall once more, before taking a sharp left into Boyd’s freshly vacated room. Stiles grabbed Scott’s tail and yanked him back suddenly, slapping a paw over his mouth before he could squeak loudly in surprise. 

Jackson lay sleeping on the cushioned bench at the foot of Boyd’s bed. Carefully, and very quietly, the two mice crept across the floor and to where Boyd’s clothes were spilling out of his wardrobe and flung all over the bed. 

Stiles pointed to Jackson and then dragged a finger across his neck, and Scott nodded gravely, putting a finger to his own lips. Silence was imperative; the moment the cat woke they were done for. 

As quiet as can be, the mice rummaged through Boyd’s wardrobe and taking turns hauling pieces up on the already open windowsill for Deaton. 

“Scott-Scott!” Stiles whispered as loud as he dared, beside himself with excitement as he held up a length of black velvet. “Look, look!” 

But when Scott turned, his heart jumped into his throat. Jackson stood behind him, jaws open in something like a grin and tail swishing back and forth. He kneaded the carpet in preparation, wickedly claws rhythmically digging into the fabric trailing behind the spotted mouse. 

“Stiles…” Scott squeaked, taking a step back. He glanced to the window, but Deaton wasn’t back yet and therefore unable to help. 

Stiles tilted his head and took a step forward, eyebrows pinched together when he found himself stuck for some reason. He yanked on the fabric as he tried again, and felt the blood drain from his face at the loud ripping sound that followed. For a moment nobody moved. 

And then all at once chaos broke loose. Jackson pounced just as Scott threw himself forward into Stiles, where they tumbled under a foot stool. 

“Plan, plan,” Stiles muttered, his chest heaving as his heart beat wildly. “We need good plan.”

Jackson swiped a paw under the stool and they pressed against the inside of one wooden leg. Jackson prowled around the stool, occasionally batting at them. 

Scott grabbed Stiles’ shoulders and shook him hard. “Danny!”

Stiles gave him a dubious look. “Danny not like Stiles very much.”

“No, no, it fine, no problem,” Scott assured him. “Everyone like Danny. Danny like everyone.”

“Jack-Jack not.”

Scott huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jack-Jack like to hiss and growl for fun. Jack-Jack sleep with Danny by fire too when no one lookin’.”

“If you sure…” Stiles said, nodding slowly. He peeked out into the room. Jackson was crouched up on the bed, tilting over the side and tail swishing. Ready for when they showed themselves. 

Stiles motioned to the door silently. Just down the stairs was the side entrance to the kitchen, where the hound was kept. If they could get to him, they’d be safe. He made a couple of hand gestures and Scott, who looked sick at the idea, nodded. 

Stiles counted down on his fingers, and on one they bolted, both scampering in opposite directions. The maneuver confused Jackson for a few precious seconds, looking between the two mice and wondering which one he would have better luck chasing. 

He lunged for Scott, and pinned him in his two paws. Stiles hesitated, already so close to the door. He spun and doubled back, throwing himself at Jackson. Gripping two pawfuls of the fur above his eyes, Stiles yanked hard. 

Jackson yowled and reared back, in the process letting Scott free. 

Stiles ran over Jackson’s face, accidentally sticking a foot in his eye and jumping from the tip of his nose. 

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Scott called. Stiles darted around pieces of furniture, hearing the tell-tale thud of Jackson climbing up chairs and jumping from surface to surface above him. The cat’s shadow hovered over him and he threw himself towards the door, sliding through the small opening and scrambling up to push it closed with Scott. Jackson slammed into the door from the other side and the door flew open, flinging them into the opposite wall. 

Jackson growled, stalking towards them across the carpeted hall. Erica wouldn’t be able to hear them if they called. They just had to get downstairs. 

Stiles slapped Scott a few times, trying to get him to focus. “Scott, get up, get up.”

Scott’s dazed expression fell on Jackson, who was getting closer by the second, and widened in clarity. “Cat!” He jumped up and the two ran zig-zag patterns down the hall, taking a flying leap for the first stair. 

They scrambled down the stairs, more tripping and tumbling than actually climbing, but the unpredictable movements of it kept Jackson from getting them, his sharp teeth snapping just beyond the tips of their tails. At the bottom, their lungs heaving and blood rushing in their oversized ears, they hung a sharp left into the hole at the corner of the kitchen door, practically tripping over their own feet to get to the old rug in front of the furnace.

“Danny, Danny,” Scott squeaked. The door rattled as Jackson head-butted it repeatedly, scratching at the latch. 

The hound looked up, ears pricking up in interest as the two mice stumbled over his large paws. Seeing Scott his tail began to wag. 

Scott grabbed his jowls and leaned in far too close over his wet nose. “Gotta help. Jackson gonna get us, and Erica can’t make party dress if Jackson do.”

Danny nodded happily, tongue lolling. The two mice climbed up his leg, paws gripping the bits of loose skin and making their way to the dip between his shoulders. Taking hold of his collar they sat underneath the strip of leather as if it was a belt keeping them secure. And not a moment too soon, as Jackson had managed to climb the door and get the latch open. It swung open and he bounded into the room, but stopped short at the sight of Danny towering above him, tail wagging furiously. 

A comically horrified look came over the cat’s face as he tried to scramble backwards, but his claws got caught in the fraying rug. Danny lumbered after him and, despite Jackson’s warning hiss, licked the entirety of the cat’s face. Wet, orange fur stuck up every which way on his head, and Jackson huddled against the floor miserably. 

Stiles was the first to laugh at the pitiful picture Jackson made, and soon Scott was overcome with laughter as well, leaning into each other as they collapsed into giggles. Jackson glared, a low wail starting up in the back of his throat, but Danny just padded by him and out into the parlor. 

Scott scratched behind one of Danny’s pointed ears as he carried them around the room, Jackson following behind sullenly. 

“Gotta find new clothes stuff,” Stiles said, shooting Jackson a reproachful look. “Since some bad kitty ruined it.”

“Yeah,” said Scott, shaking a finger at the cat. “Naughty, naughty kitty.”

Jackson hissed, but made no move to leap for them. 

Danny stopped by the drapes, letting Stiles feel them. 

“No, no, not right.” Danny moved on to the next set of windows and Stiles perked up, appreciating both the color and texture. “These. Perfect.”

Danny grabbed a mouthful and yanked the curtains down in one forceful tug. He dragged them across the floor and took the whole company up the stairs and into the loft. Dropping it with the other things Deaton had piled next to Erica’s vanity, Danny let the mice off onto the bed and, just as Jackson was readying himself to leap onto the bed after them, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and happily trotted back down the stairs. The cat growled the whole way down. 

* * *

The grandfather clock in the front hall was chiming a quarter to ten when Derek and the boys where donning their coats in preparation to leave. 

“Wait for me!” Erica called, running down the stair with a pair of black heels in her hand. Derek narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, not in the mood to deal with the impending tantrum. 

“What the hell is that.”

“My dress for the ball,” Erica said, clipped and obviously pleased with herself. It wasn’t like the grand things in the seamstress shops in town, piles of fabric and sashes and bows and chiffon and lace, but it was lovely all the same. Isaac’s blue shirt had been re-sewn into a low cut piece with flowing sleeves off her shoulders, and was overlaid with a black corset and billowing black skirt, the table lace peaking out from under the hem and dusting the floor. The boys were sincerely impressed, and were about to clap for her efforts when Derek growled. 

“Ha ha, Erica, real funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” she snapped, chin in the air. “As you can tell by the fact that no one’s laughing.”

“I thought I made myself perfectly clear earlier. You’re. Not. Going.”

“The hell I’m not! I worked hard on this dress and you haven’t let me into town for over a year!” Her eyes flashed gold as she snarled. 

Derek just smirked and tilted his head in a faint nod. “This is exactly what I was talking about. You’re starting to shift already. Just a hint of emotion and you’re about to lose it.”

“I can handle it!”

“Go back to your room, Erica,” he said, low and commanding. Isaac shot her a pleading look, silently begging her to give up for once, to stop riling Derek up. If she pushed him far enough, he might ban all of them from going. 

She almost did it, the pull of her Alpha urging her to listen and not make any more of a fuss. But she balled her hands in her skirt, hiding the fact that her claws where starting to grow.

“You can’t make me.”

Derek let out a bark of laughter, eyebrows climbing up his forehead at her gall. “I can, actually, but I won’t, because I shouldn’t have to bend your will to make you obey.” He crossed the foyer in a few long strides and, quicker than she could stop, he dragged his claws down the front of her dress. “You’re not going to the ball, Erica. I won’t have you shifting in front of all those people, and the King ordering you to be put down like a common dog.”

She gasped, taking several startled steps back as she grabbed at the trailing strips of fabric. But it was useless—there was no saving it. She looked up at her brothers, blinking back tears, but they wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“You brought this on yourself,” Derek said, softer than before, but just as firm. “I’m trying to protect you.”

When she said nothing more, all the curses and hate balled up in her throat, he almost reached out to touch her arm, to soothe her, but thought better of it and turned to the door. He shuffled the boys out, and Boyd craned his neck to look over his shoulder. 

_I’m so sorry_ , he mouthed, but she squeezed her eyes shut and ran out the back door into the garden. 

She threw her shoes into the rose bushes and screamed. Not real words, or curses, but a pure primal scream that echoed in the night. She wailed and gripped the edge of the stone bench, easily weighing hundreds of pounds, and flipped it into the pond. 

Wiping angrily at the tears on her cheeks she ground her teeth together, fingers flexing as they grew claws. She wanted to tear the garden up, but that would just prove Derek right. Prove he was right about her and her control and everything. Because he was almost always right and she hated it so much. 

She could do little more than collapse against the large oak tree, and bury her face in her arms, propped against her knees. She hated crying, hated showing weakness like this, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Suddenly there was a soft tinkling like bells, and the overwhelming smell of hibiscus. “That is _not_ how a lady acts.” 

Erica looked up warily, tears forgotten as she sniffed the air. There were tiny lights swirling above the pond, slowly growing brighter and moving towards shore. Jumping to her feet she backed up towards the house, ready to bolt if it turned out to be a threat. 

The sparkles amassed and with a blinding flash of light a girl no older than herself stood in the middle of the garden. She was shorter, but shapely with hair like fire and eyes sharper than a knife. She smiled at Erica and fluffed out her lavender dress. 

“You must be Miss Erica,” she said matter-of-factly, and stuck out her hand. “I’m your Fairy Godmother.”

Looking between it and the girl for a few heartbeats, Erica finally stepped closer and took it, surprised at the strength in the dainty hand. “My what?”

“Fairy Godmother,” she repeated, mouth pursed as if irritated she had to do so. “But you can call me Lydia. Now, what’s the problem, dear? We haven’t got all night.”

Erica narrowed her eyes, automatically mistrustful, but Lydia narrowed hers right back, tapping her foot impatiently. 

“The ball,” she finally said. “I want to go to the ball, but Derek…” she trailed off, considering her words. While Derek had ripped her dress, that wasn’t the reason she couldn’t go, not really. She looked Lydia square in the eye as she straightened up and crossed her arms. “Tonight’s the full moon, and I can’t go to the ball all wolfed out, y’know?”

She expected Lydia to be surprised, but the fairy godmother just scoffed and flicked her bangs out of her eyes. “Please, try to give me a challenge next time.” She pulled her wand out from between her cleavage, and Erica’s gaze stuck on the movement, curious and surprised, for the first time noticing the bare tops of her breasts—pushing out a little more each time she breathed. Ladies rarely wore garments that revealing, and Erica had never really given it much thought before, but now…

At the pointed cough, Erica wrenched her eyes up and blushed at Lydia’s cocked eyebrow, at being caught staring. 

“Let’s try to stay on track, hm? I know how spectacular they are, but we’re on a tight schedule and there’ll be plenty of time for that later,” Lydia said briskly. She swished her wand back and forth, coating Erica in sparkles.

Erica sneezed and brushed the sparkles from her face, but they weren’t physically there. “What’s all that about? I don’t feel any different.”

Lydia smirked and propped a hand on one cocked hip. “It’s a simple spell that’ll keep you from shifting until Midnight. It won’t matter how angry or aroused you get, you’ll be perfectly human until the clock strikes twelve.”

Erica blinked at her, before looking at her hands and twisting them a few times. No claws. No fur. Just pale skin and manicured nails like usual. 

“Now,” Lydia said, clapping her hands twice. “On to the dress. You simply can’t go in those rags.” She swished her wand again and Erica’s dress became a bright light like fireworks, before revealing a full white ball gown with short, light blue sleeves. Her hair was piled on top of her head with a blue headband, and she wore matching silk gloves. 

Lydia pulled a face and laughed once humorlessly. “How about no. Far too simple for the occasion, wouldn’t you say? You’ve got a crowd to impress, and a Princess to sweep off her feet. I say something a bit more daring is in order.”

“But I’m not trying to win the—“

“Hush, dear.” With a flick of her wand Erica’s outfit changed again. 

The little black dress was unlike anything Erica had seen on the ladies in town, unlike anything she’d seen anywhere. But the leather jacket was familiar and comfortable, the material worked into buttery soft folds.

“And for the wild side in you,” Lydia added with a smirk, and pointed her wand at Erica’s feet. The slippers were bright and spotted like the jungle cats in Boyd’s books, and at least twice the heel than any other shoe at the ball.

Erica grinned up at her fairy godmother, predatory and wicked.

Lydia nodded to herself, business like. “Now you have to be back by midnight. No excuses. I know you’re gonna score tonight, because please, I’ve made you irresistible, but you have to leave before midnight.” 

Erica crossed her arms, but nodded nonetheless. “Yes, _Derek_. Can I just go? It’s getting late.”

“Don’t rush me,” Lydia snapped. “Perfection takes time, and I accept nothing less than the very best.”

She turned to the garden, her full skirts swishing around her and sparkling. “You’ll need a ride, and only the best, of course.” She waved her wand three succinct times, and a large pumpkin from the garden begun to glow. It rolled towards them and expanded, shifting from a pale orange into a shiny black. 

“A pumpkin?”

“Peter the pumpkin, to be precise,” Lydia clarified. “Peter had a taste for young, supple flesh and used to kidnap young maidens and stash them in his prized pumpkins. It was becoming a problem, so I turned him into one. Now he can do exactly what he enjoys without hurting anyone.” She looked over her shoulder with a haughty grin. “Pretty ingenious, huh?”

Erica took a cautionary step back. “You seriously want me to get in that thing with a creep like that?”

“Oh pish-posh, he’s harmless now.”

“I’m merely a pumpkin,” the carriage said, and Erica jumped, barring her teeth on instinct. “Oh don’t get your fur ruffled,” the carriage drawled. “I haven’t even got hands. A real shame considering.”

“And besides, you’ll have your trusty footman and driver with you. I’ve done this loads of times, and not one complaint.” Lydia put two fingers to her mouth and let out one piercing whistle. 

There was an answering howl, and Danny the hound came loping from around the side of the manor, Jackson’s ruff tight in his jaws. Jackson squirmed and hissed, trying to get his claws into _anything_ that might get him away from the big dog that only ever wanted to cuddle. 

“There you two are. Time to get to work,” the fairy godmother said and flicked her wand. Surrounded in a cloud of glitter, the two animals grew and morphed into humans. Danny grinned in adoration and excitement, his hand clamped tightly on the back of Jackson’s neck. Jackson had his arms crossed and shoulders hunched against the grip, lips curled down and face pinched in a pout.

“Jackson,” Lydia warned. 

The former cat scoffed and shot her a mean look, but yanked himself out Danny’s grip and climbed onto the front of the carriage. He picked up the limp reins and snapped them. “I’m sure you’re smarter than you look, but I need some horses if we’re going anywhere.” 

Lydia cocked an eyebrow, smoothly covering her annoyance with a smile, and swished her wand again. The two mice hiding in the tall grasses _poofed_ into a pair of steeds, tossing their heads and stamping their new hooves. 

Danny stood next to the carriage and extended a gloved hand. “M’lady?”

“Now that’s more like it,” Erica crooned and flashed him a bright grin as she took his hand and jumped into the carriage. If the carriage made a pleased rumbling, she tried to ignore it. 

“Remember, midnight!” Lydia said sternly, shaking her wand at her. 

Erica rolled her eyes and flapped her hand dismissively through the carriage window. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Jackson snapped the reins and the horses pulled away with a jolt, jumping to get going. And quickly. 

"Are you seriously going to wear that?" the carriage asked as soon as they were well on their way.

"Are you insulting my outfit?”

“For one, a bit of color could really bring out the highlights in your hair. But foremost, it’s a ball for the _princess_ and you're not even going to pretend to be a boy... I'm just stating the facts, doll.”

Erica smirked as she crossed her legs, the tight material of her skirt stretching taut over her thighs as she sat back against the plush seats. "Oh don't worry, that's not going to be a problem."

The ride was swift, already behind schedule, and when they reached the palace Erica practically tumbled out of the carriage. She growled at it, but was only rewarded with a light laugh. 

“Hurry along, girl, or you’re going to miss the main event.”

Erica grinned at that, bright red lips parting around her sharp teeth in a feral grin. “I am the main event.”

Danny jumped off the carriage and stood beside her. “I’m coming with you, just in case. I’ve heard Derek talk about the king…” he trailed off, tone taking a darker edge as he squared his shoulders. 

She gave Jackson a mock pitying look and patted his cheek roughly. “Looks like you’ve got to stay with the horses, Pussy Cat. So sorry you’re going to miss the fun.” 

He hissed in response and took a snap at her fingers. She yanked them away with a sound of surprised delight, flicking his nose before grabbing Danny’s hand and running for the main stairs. 

“See you later, Puss-Puss!” 

They hurried up the flights of stairs and through lines upon lines of armored guards. 

“How are you going to do this without Derek seeing?” Danny asked as they neared the ball room. It was already filled with possible suitors for the princess, who looked a bit bored with it all.

“Oh, Derek’s going to see. _Everyone’s_ going to see me, I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Great,” Danny muttered. “And who’s going to get saddled with all the blame later? The dog. Everyone likes to blame the dog.”

Erica stepped into the ball room, and the first sharp click of her towering heels rang throughout the room like a physical wave. She strutted up the group of suitors and turned on her brightest smirk, easily moving through the thick crowd as they parted around her like water, in awe. 

She swung her hips and winked at any boy she connected eyes with; running her hands up the arms of anyone too slow to get out of her way, pushing them easily to the side. There were a few young men clustered around the Princess, who by this time had noticed Erica’s approach and watched with interest at her coy expression, making the men around her into putty.

“Excuse me, boys,” Erica said smoothly, and gripped their shoulders tightly, fluttering her lashes as she forcefully pushed them to the side. They mumbled astonished apologies as they backed away. 

In the crowd Isaac rolled his eyes. “Show off. I could’ve worn leopard heels too, she’s not that special.”

Boyd snorted as he shot him an amused look. Derek fisted his hands tightly, grinding his teeth together.

Princess Allison regarded her with merely a raised eyebrow, but allowed Erica her hand, which was kissed. A stain in the shape of Erica’s lips was left behind on the smooth skin and Erica grinned sharp and wide. 

Allison couldn’t help but smile back, the expression both intrigued and shy, and bowed. Much to her father’s irritation, she’d forgone the dress laid out on her bed, and had gone with a dark green tunic, synched at the waist with a gold embroidered belt, tan leggings, and her favorite pair of heeled boots. The dark brown cloak had been hemmed at her thighs for ease of movement. Most of her suitors laughed indulgently, but Erica looked her over with obvious hunger. 

“M’lady, may I have the honor of this dance?” Allison asked, hand out invitingly. 

“I’d love nothing more,” Erica said, lacing their fingers together and yanking the Princess closer than was appropriate for a waltz. The king sputtered and went to stand, but the Duke coerced him back into his chair with assurances of “just a bit of fun, your majesty” and “she knows better, please watch your blood pressure.”

Derek was fuming, eyes two seconds away from red and going Alpha on the entire room. 

“Calm down, Derek,” Boyd hissed, looking around them wildly to see if anyone was noticing. But it seemed every eye was trained on his sister spinning the crowned princess across the floor. He had to hand it to her: if nothing else she aimed high. 

“I am calm,” Derek growled. “But once I get my hands on her she’ll be grounded until she dies.”

“You’re so not calm,” Isaac muttered, and then gripped Derek’s arm tightly, holding him back. “She hasn’t wolfed out yet, as you can see if you stopped freaking out for ten seconds. I wouldn’t provoke her. I mean, she’s doing okay so far, right?”

Derek stilled for a moment, mouth pressed into a firm line. “ _For now_. Keep a eye on her, and if something happens, it’s your boys’ responsibility to deal with it. Have I made myself clear?”

Boyd sighed, but nodded. At least she was being given a chance. 

“I’m not a big fan of the waltz,” Erica said as she and Allison spun across the polished floor. “But I have a different dance I think you’d like.” She waggled her eyebrows and Allison flushed, looking away in a failed attempt to mask her smile. 

“I don’t really like dancing either,” Allison said after she’d gotten her expression under control. “Just follow my lead.”

They twirled and moved purposefully through the crowd of spectators and breezed out onto the terrace before anyone could stop them. As soon as they were out of sight Erica had Allison’s hands in a crushing grip and pushed her up against a stone column.

“Yeah,” Erica purred, “I prefer this much better.” She leaned into Allison and worked a leg in between the Princess’ thighs. 

Allison’s breath hitched and her eyes widened. It was an absolutely delicious expression. The kiss was slow and heated, their lips sliding together as Allison rolled her hips forward tentatively. Erica grinned into the kiss, nipping sharply at Allison’s bottom lip and pulling a little until the Princess made a needy sound. 

“You like that?” Erica breathed, brushing her lips up the other girl’s cheek, moving to her ear and licking the shell. At Allison’s squirming she giggled and bit down on her ear and tugged. “You smell good. Good enough to _eat_.” She licked at her ear again, before moving down to her neck. Inhaling deeply and making a sound of want as she flicked her tongue against the prominent vein on the side of her neck. 

Suddenly the world spun as Allison lurched forward changed their positions, backing Erica into the terrace railing. She grinned and grabbed the back of Erica’s thighs and forcefully perched her on top of it, spreading her legs so she could slide between them. The already short dress rode higher, and Allison could feel the other girl’s heat as those toned legs were wrapped around her, drawing her ever closer. 

“I’m not a damsel,” Allison quipped, hands splayed on Erica’s hips and pleased when the other girl had to cling to her shoulders and neck to keep from tumbling backwards, arching into her.

“So I’ve heard. But I’m finding the first hand account pretty nice.”

Allison just kissed her again, fingers digging into her hips as she thrust her tongue into Erica’s mouth, not waiting for permission. Erica made a pleased hum in her throat and pushed right back, fingers tangling with Allison’s dark hair and pulling slightly just to feel the princess tense and then melt into her. Just to feel Allison breathing hard into her and like she was in the middle of battle. Like it was difficult to breathe, but couldn’t bare to stop kissing her for even a scarce heartbeat. 

The clock tower suddenly clicked and began chiming. Distantly Erica remembered something important tied to the clock, but it was hard to think with Allison’s mouth on her neck and fingernails cutting into her bare thighs. It probably wasn’t important. _Nothing _could be as important as this, having the Princess hooked on her every whim. How jealous her brothers would be, if they knew. Hell, they could probably _smell_ it. __

__But then the clock kept chiming, and Erica began to feel a bit weird. Something other than the heady lust rushing through her blood. No, she felt a bit anxious and almost sick. She gasped, Allison’s thumb brushing along the lace edge of her panties, and dug her claws into Allison’s cloak._ _

__Claws._ _

___Claws._ _ _

__With a shout she shoved Allison off and staggered away, the heels suddenly more of a hindrance than anything when her body longed to run and run. She kicked them off, flexing her toes and fearing to look down to see the nails long and fine hair dusting the tops of her feet. Hopefully the shadows would hide the worst of it._ _

__It was midnight already, and the change was beginning._ _

__Allison, looking hurt and confused, rushed after her. “Wait, where are you going? You can’t just—“ She grabbed Erica’s hand, but Erica yanked it away trying to make a run for it, before Allison saw._ _

__But it was too late, because she could sense her eyes shifting and recognition and understanding dawned on Allison’s face. She took a step back. “You’re a…”_ _

__Erica turned and fled down through the gardens and into the woods. She’d really messed up this time._ _

__Back on the terrace Allison’s brain slowly kicked back into gear. Slowly a smile spread across her face and she pulled her cloak around her shoulders more securely._ _

__“Well, it looks like it’s time to go hunting.”_ _

__She jumped the stairs two at a time, forgetting all about her party, and headed for the shed next to the stables. She slung a quiver over her shoulder and grabbed her bow, and took off into the woods after the mysterious girl._ _

__The tracks were hard to follow in the dark, but not impossible and soon she stopped, ears straining for the soft sound she could’ve sworn she just heard. She turned in a slow circle, boots making little sound in the damp underbrush. There! A soft intake of breath just above her right shoulder and before she rationalized the sound she spun and let an arrow fly. There was a grunt and a dark shape fell out of the trees._ _

__Erica’s eyes cut through the darkness, the amber wild and wanting. She growled, baring her fangs in warning and yanked the arrow out of her calf, dropping it to the ground. She was off again, the slight limp only slowing her a little as she darted between the trees and out of sight. But Allison just smirked to herself, crouching to touch a leaf and her fingers coming away wet with a dark smear. The girl may be faster, and more adapt at moving through the forest, but she was leaving a crimson trial—sooner or later Allison would catch up with her._ _

__She must have tracked her for over an hour into the chilly night, another arrow notched and constantly vigilant. The blood splatters were illuminated in the moonlight and easy to follow. There was movement up ahead and Allison only took a sparse second to aim before the arrow whizzed through the air and met something with a solid, sick sounding _thunk_._ _

__With a proud intake of breath and a sharp smile, Allison stalked closer, being careful for whatever lay ahead._ _

__Erica stood pinned to a gnarled tree, the arrow through her arm and lodged firmly into the bark, glaring and bitting her bottom lip against the pain. “You gonna do it or what? Aren’t you gonna kill me? Derek was right, you royals, you humans, are all the sam—“_ _

__“You’ll heal, right?” Allison dropped her bow and quiver and grasped the shaft firmly._ _

__Erica’s eyebrows furrowed and slowly she was starting to look a bit more human. “What?”_ _

__Allison sighed patiently and nodded toward the arrow. “If I take it out, the wound will heal good as new, right?”_ _

__Erica nodded slowly, unsure what her game was._ _

__“Good, bite down if you need,” Allison said as she snapped off the end of the arrow. Erica jolted, and while she was busy trying to process what was about to happen, Allison shoved two knuckles between her teeth. Unafraid of what the werewolf could do to her, Allison took a deep breath and yanked Erica’s arm forward, the shaft sliding out and standing stark where it was still imbedded in the tree._ _

__Erica screamed and clamped down on Allison’s fingers, bitting into flesh. Allison winced, but didn’t move, not wanting to agitate her further. After a few moments of both girls panting quietly, the hole in Erica’s arm slowly closed up._ _

__“There, that wasn’t so bad,” Allison said, trying to ignore how her fingers throbbed as she extracted them. They were probably a bloody mess. But it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it._ _

__“What the hell are you playing at?” Erica screamed, taking several steps away from her._ _

__“I had to stop you somehow, and you didn’t seem like you were in any state to listen.”_ _

__Erica gaped at her as if she was the werewolf, instead of herself. “You’re fucking crazy!”_ _

__Allison shrugged, grinning as she rocked on her heels. “But I got you stop, you have to give me points for that.”_ _

__“Yeah, by shooting me! I thought you were going to kill me.”_ _

__“You ran away, what was I supposed to do?”_ _

__Erica didn’t say anything at that, just regarded her with a curious expression. “I’m a werewolf.”_ _

__“I noticed that, thanks.”_ _

__“And you don’t care?”_ _

__“Not particularly, no. You’re a fantastic kisser and don’t seem to care if I wear pants.”_ _

__“You’re so weird,” Erica finally relented, but moved closer, expression less guarded. She brought Allison’s wounded hand up to her mouth and carefully licked away the blood, using her powers to leech as much of the pain as she could._ _

__And when they kissed again, Erica tasting of coppery blood and a bit like the forest some how, her eyes still bright and fangs almost cutting Allison’s tongue, Allison thought that she could definitely get used to this. No more soft boys and their gentle hands. No more hunting alone. And most of all, no more dresses._ _

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of 11 possible TW/Disney fusion fics I have planned. So... look forward to that, if Disney's your thing. It'll be a pretty balanced mix of het, slash, and femslash, so everyone's going to get what they want at some point =)


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